


The Talking Cure

by MezzaMorta



Series: Quartet [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, BAMF Anthea (Sherlock), Bickering, Bottom Mycroft Holmes, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Boys In Love, Companionable Snark, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Flogging, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Papa-kink, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Possessive Sherlock, Sex Toys, Spanking, Top Greg Lestrade, Top John Watson, Verbal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-04 22:39:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14603226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MezzaMorta/pseuds/MezzaMorta
Summary: Short experiments in banter, verbal sex and dirty talk. Dialogue only.Adding standalone chapters whenever they occur to me. Various pairings and combos of the four boys.





	1. Mycie and Papa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Refers back to Best Days of Your Life, but who cares, right? It's just some dirty talk. x

“Gregory...”

“Hmm?” 

“May I...”

“What, love?”

“Well...”

“Spit it out, Myc. What's up?”

“I'm feeling in need of something.”

“Oh, aye? Anything I can help you with?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I'm feeling a bit - tense.”

“Are you? Can run you a bath if you like, love.” 

“No, I mean... You know.”

“Gonna have to spell it out. Not very quick on the uptake, me.” 

“Oh, really, Gregory, you know what I want!” 

“Do I, now? Could be anything. Are you hungry?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Can do you some toast.”

“Not that kind of hungry.”

“Oh, well, now we're getting somewhere.” 

“I have a...”

“Oh, so you do.”

“Yes.”

“Feeling all funny down there, are you?”

“Don't be crude.”

“Not being crude. I see your problem. Can't help it if I don't know what you want me to do about it though, can I? I'll just read the paper 'til you find the right words.”

“You're a beast.”

“Aren't I, though? Ooh, look, they're closing the high street bridge, roadworks for two months. Tch. Bloody bus diversions again.”

“Gregory, please!” 

“They caught that bloke who robbed the offie. Local library's being refurbished, not before time...” 

“I want buggering, all right?! Happy now?”

“Ecstatic, doll. Wasn't so hard, was it?”

“Yes! You make it hard.”

“Want me to make it harder?”

“My brother's right, you know, you’re not funny at all, Lestrade.”

“Is that the tone you want to be taking with me at this moment?”

“I admit that may have been unwise.”

“Rude, I’d say.”

“Yes, very rude. I apologise, dear heart.”

“Accepted. Now, would you like me to help you out with your not-so-little problem?”

“Please, Gregory.”

“Hmm. I will then. Seeing as you asked. Up you get, then.”

“Erm… I did wonder, actually…”

“Oh, I see, that’s not all you’re after, is it?” 

“Well, now you mention it...”

“Something else I can do for you, Holmes? What’s going on in that pretty bonce of yours?”

“For God's sake... All right. Well. I… I very much enjoyed – erm - your birthday.”

“I enjoyed my birthday too, doll. Which bits did you enjoy most, eh?”

“Er..."

“Aw, sweet lad. Gone all pink and shy on me. I'll help you out, shall I? Cos I'm so nice.” 

“Nice. Yes.” 

“Mmm. Papa's _very_ nice.”

“Oh, God...”

“Papa knows best, doesn't he? Knows what Mycie likes.” 

“Oh...”

“Likes it like...this. With my hand.” 

“Gregory!”

“Come and straddle my lap, doll. Show you how I can do two nice things at once. Shall we get these silly trousers and undies down?"

"Mm-hm."

"There we go. Likes my fingers too, my Mycie, doesn't he?”

"Please, please...”

“Oh, hang on. I know what Mycie liked most about Papa's birthday...”

“ _Say it_ to me.”

“Liked being turned over my knee, didn't you?”

“Ooh, yesss…”

“Liked having your bare bottom spanked, all red and hot over my lap.” 

“Ooooh…”

“Bloody loved bending over for me and being punished like a naughty boy. Being taught a lesson with the flat of Papa's hand in front of everyone. All bare-arsed. ” 

“Your hand, Gregory, oh...”

“Stung, didn't it? Hurt your poor bottom. Made it all smarting and sore. Couldn't sit for a week, could you? Bad little boy.” 

“So sore, Papa... Mmm!"

“Remember how you cried when I did it? Made you gasp and squeal. But I just wouldn't stop, would I? Just kept on smacking your bare bum, making it burn. Walloped you right on top of your dinky little hole too, didn't I? Horrible Papa. Teasing his Mycie. Making him go all silly with it. Spanking your arsehole while your naughty baby brother watched you howl and squirm and beg me to stop.” 

“Fuck, fuck, Greg, you filthy...”

“Filthy, yeah. Mycie likes it filthy. Wanted me to spread your cheeks and make it sting there, didn't you? Would you like me to? Get a nice suede flogger and punish your tight little bumhole, ‘til it’s all rosy and raw? Or do you want Johnny to do it? Want the Captain to make you behave? Make you a very sorry little soldier.”

“You…and John...”

“Lockie would be jealous, wouldn't he? Seeing you spread your cheeks for a flogging. He’d want one too, and I’d make you watch me do it to him.”

“Oh, Christ. Baby brother. Yes, yes.”

“And you’d kiss his pretty, whipped hole all better, wouldn’t you?”

“My pretty Lock….”

“And then, when both my boys are all swollen and so, _so_ sore, I'd stick my finger right up inside your flaming arse...”

“Oh, fuck, deeper, Greg. I'm going to - !”

“...frig you like this, until you just couldn’t…”

“I'm, I'm...”

“Yeah, you are. Ooh, that’s it, isn't it?”

“Gregory! Nnngh!”

“That’s right. There’s a lovely Mycie for me. All better now.” 

“Fuck!”

“Aw. I do like it when you say fuck, love.”

“Fuck _me,_ you’re a bad man.”

“Shh, darlin’, I know.”

“Evil, evil man!”  

“Mm-hm. Good, innit?”

“Oh Lord, yes. Bloody hell, Lestrade. Bloody hell.”

“And it’s not even time for Eastenders.”

“Disgraceful.”

“Mm. Delicious.”

“Disgusting, Gregory.”

“Yep. Now, about that buggering you wanted…”

“Can’t move yet. Haven’t caught my breath, and I’m a bit…wet.”

“Not to worry."

"No?"

"Nah. Over you go.”

“Greg - mmmf!

“I’ve said before this sofa’s a write-off, haven’t I? Now shut up and be a good boy for Papa.”


	2. Rugby shorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock takes issue with John's rugby shorts.

“Woah, hang on, where do you think you’re going, Watson?”

“Off on safari. Where do you think?! Rugby, Sherlock. Rugby practice like every Sunday.”

“You’re not leaving the flat in _those_!”

“What?”

“Those shorts!”

“What about them? Just my ordinary kit. You’ve seen them before.”

“They’re _far_ too short, John!”

“They are not!”

“I can see your knickers through them.”

“No, you can see my very manly athletic pants through them. Not my fault they insist on white bloody shorts. Only had me grey pants clean. Need to do a wash when I get home.”

“You can do it now. Not going out in those.”

“I think you’ll find I am.”

“Washing’s the root cause of this, anyway. You’ve shrunk them, John, face it.”

“I have not! They’re exactly the same as always.”

“They’re not. They’re tiny. They’re miniscule. They’re obscene!”

“You’re insane.”

“I have eyes. And they’re looking at the outline of your penis in those clingy little hotpants you’re wearing.”

“Ha, that’s because you’re always looking at the outline of my penis, Sherlock, you can’t help yourself. It’s like a bloody magnet to you.”

“If you will dress pornographically…”

“Says the bloke who regularly parades around here in the buff like an overgrown toddler on the beach!”

“I get hot.”

“And attends national security meetings wrapped only in a bedsheet. Even after the cease and desist!”

“Only to annoy my brother.”

“Annoy, yeah, that’s the reason. Not to make him come in his pants or anything.”

“It works, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, it's very effective.”

“Go and put some joggers on, for God's sake, John. They’ll be children at the park, you’ll be corrupting young minds. I'll have Greg arrest you.”

“Don't think he'll mind the tiny shorts somehow." 

“Just look at it!"

"Give over! Stop gawping.”

"It’s like you’re advertising it, John! 'Here's my big cock, do please enjoy it.'”

“Flattered though I am, some of this is the protective support designed to stop me crown jewels getting kicked in.”

“Not surprised - you’ve made them a very obvious and inviting target.”

”Oh, shut up, mate. Stop blocking the door, I’m running late as it is.”

“You may as well not be wearing them at all! Too short  _and_ too tight _and_ see-through. Perhaps your arse is just getting bigger…”

“Nice try. You know that one doesn’t work on me. Out of the way, please.”

“No! I won’t have you being ogled by the whole of West London.”

“I think the whole of West London have better things to ogle.”

“That six-foot-six blond on your absurd nancyboy rugby team doesn’t though, does he?”

“Oh, is that so? Happily married with kids, mate, never so much as winked at me.”

“I’m still having him followed.”

“Whatever turns you on, love. Shift yer arse.”

“Won’t.”

“Like that, is it?”

“Yep.”

“I… Oh! I see. I get it. Right. Stupid, Watson. Stupid. Should have realised sooner…”

“Why are you talking to yourself in the third person? Only imbeciles do that.”

“Sherlock…”

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Might want to brace yourself. Or run. Giving you three seconds to decide.”

“What – “

“Rrrgh!”

“Oof! Ow! Rugby tackle, not fair!”

“Don’t give me that. S’what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

“What took you so long?!”

“Shut up, get your pants off. I’m giving you five minutes, then I’m off to my game.”

“’Kay. Ooh, John…”

“Fingers, hand or mouth? Only get one for being a manipulative little prat.”

“Fingers. Definitely.”

“Yeah? Cool.”

“Lube’s…”

“In your pocket, course it is.”

“Mmm, John…”

“Come on, open up, you wanted it. There's a good boy...”

“Yesss."

"Here's one..."

"Do two, John, just two, and twist them up, and…”

“Don’t have to tell me how to massage a prostate, love, I get enough bloody practice.”

“Fuck!”

“See? Expert.”

“Fuck-fuck-fuck…”

“Yeah… Nice hard fingering, that’s all you wanted, weren’t it?”

“Fingers, John. Oh, fuck…”

“Now, my shorts aren’t too tight, are they?”

“Mm-hm, they are. Skimpy as hell. Practically invisible.”

"Know what else is too tight...?"

"Ooh!"

“Sherlock... I’m going to be doing a lot of bending over and running around in my tight shorts in…three minutes.”

“Uurgh…”

“Yes, babe, very uurgh.”

“John-John...”

“Look at you, sweaty and fucking clenching on my fingers… Noisy little whore.”

“Oh, God!”

“Go on, wank yourself off, then.”

“Thanks… Ooh…”

“When I come home, Sherlock…”

“Mm?”

“Two minutes. I’m gonna be all sweaty in my teeny-tiny shorts…”

“Yessss…”

“Maybe sit on your face and you can clean me all up with your tongue...”

“Fuck, yes, oh… John, tiny, shorts, sit, oh… Fuck me!”

“And there it is.”

“Christ!”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Ooh… Mmm. Phew. That’s the stuff.”

“Good lad. Can we get off the floor now?”

“You can. Staying here.”

“All right, love.”

“Sleepy.”

“Go back to bed when you’ve got your brain back, yeah?”  

“You. Go rugby. No talking.”

“Yes, love. Have a good kip.”

“Mm. Johnny's little shorts…”

“Pfft. Idiot.”

"Hope you win, Watson."

"I always bloody win, Holmes."


	3. Come-calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's phone sex, but not as we know it.

"Holmes. Hello? Hello...?" 

"Oooh..."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes, Mycie. Yes! Ooh, yesss.."

"Sherlock, stop it this instant!"

"Too late! Nnnng, uh-uh, YES! Mmm. Ffff. Oh, that was good."

"You must desist from doing this!"

"Er, nope." 

"You cannot call me just to - "

"Kay, cheers, bye!"

****

"Lestrade speaking."

"He keeps doing it!"

"Oh, hello, love. Who? Doing what?" 

"Catch up, Gregory."

"Ooh,  _that._ "

"Yes. That."

"Know what he calls it?"

"I have no wish to..."

"A cum-call." 

"Gregory, please!"

"He keeps cum-calling you, darlin'."

"I never want to hear that phrase again, from any of you. I can hear from your voice that you're spelling it with a U and three letters. Appalling."

"Take it up with Watson, he invented it. Think it's quite descriptive."

"That's as may be, but it must cease! John's foul neologism and Little Brother's vile deed."

"Don't you find phone sex a turn-on, then? Not what I recall..."

"This isn't phone sex, Gregory, it's one-way broadcasting!"

"Isn't it a little bit flattering though?"

"That baby brother calls just to...orgasm down the phone at me when I'm at work? Every day for the last two weeks? No, it isn't flattering, it's an imposition. Highly distracting. It's not like I even get to enjoy any of it!"

"So it's not the noisy cumming you object to, it's the fact you don't get to reciprocate?"

"Reciprocate? I don't even participate. I don't even get to hear the build-up! I answer the phone and it's just 'ooh, yes-yes, goodbye.'"

"Oh. I thought you were getting more than that. He literally only calls when he's on the verge?"

"Exactly. Spends hours edging himself at home and just when he's on the brink, he hits speed dial and uses my voice to push him over it."

"See, that is flattering. You know what your voice does to him."

"I do know, and I feel very used. He's masturbating at me, Gregory. Not for me. Not with me.  _At_ me." 

"Aw, poor love."

"I don't even get to say anything apart from 'Hello!'. It's made me very self-conscious about answering the phone at all. The Swedish Ambassador was genuinely puzzled when I whispered it tentatively to her last week."

"Lucky Ulrika."

"Please find him a case, Gregory. It must be a ten. Anything less is unacceptable. He has far too much time on his hands."

"That's not all he's got on his..."

"Don't! It's not in the least amusing, Lestrade."

"I'm just jealous 'cos he doesn't do it to me."

"That's because he has some respect for you. Count yourself lucky"

"Don't be a daft Mycie. And don't fret. The novelty will soon wear off."

****

"Good afternoon, Lime Tree Clinic."

"Could you...ah...put me through...to....mmm...Dr John Watson, please?"

"Is it an emergency?"

"Yeah. Oh, yeah." 

"Then you should call 999, sir."

"No. Not emergency. Serious personal...thing. Patient confidentiality. He's expecting me..."

"You sound in distress, sir. Do you need some help?"

"Yes... Yes, need... Speak to Doctor. Now or I'll make a...complaint!"

"Please hold the line."

"No, don't put me on h..."

"Hello, Watson here."

"Ohfuckyeah! Fuck me. John! Yes!"

"You. UTTER. Dickhead. Use my mobile at least!"

"Oooh, oh. So good. Huh. Messy one."

"You... Just you bloody wait 'til I get home."

"'Kay, thanks, bye!"

"Sherlock!" 

****

"D.I. Lestrade. 'Lo?"

"Oooh, fucking yessss.... Ahhh... There it is!"

"You dirty little..."

"Mmmf. Phew! Right. Back to work, Lestrade."

"You've started something you can't finish, miladdo."

"Finished already. Laters."

"But...!"

****

"He's got to be stopped, doll."

"Well, I did tell you, didn't I?"

"I've had three calls today. How can he manage it so bloody often? Is he faking?"

"I'm afraid not, Gregory. He is, frankly, a freak of nature. But it might have something to do with that vibrating bullet device I implored you  _not_ to buy him."

"Not my fault he's a bloody polecat."

"And that awful thing..."

"The fleshlight?"

"Don't even name it. I'm shuddering as I speak."

"Well, we had to stop him using up all the soft fruit somehow, didn't we? Hang on, line's clicked - that you, Johnnyboy?"

"Yep. What are we going to do about the cum-calls?"

"Please don't, John, I beg of you!"

"Dunno, love. It's out of control. It's like getting wank spam."

"Gentlemen, if we could refrain from vulgarity for just a moment...."

"Seriously though, I can't take it anymore! I'm gettin' hard every time the phone rings. Sometimes at a crime scene. It's awkward."

"Try every time  _any_ phone rings, mate."

"Yeah. It's a - what-d-ya-call it?"

"Pavlova response."

"Pavlovian response, John. Honestly..."

"I know, Myc, just winding you up." 

"Ha! Nice one."

"Painfully immature, the pair of you. All three of you, in fact."

"Why do you keep picking up, anyway, Greg? You know it's him!"

"A different number comes up every time! Dunno how he manages that. Why do you pick up?!"

"Cos he calls the clinic! And when he doesn't they're from withheld numbers. Keep thinking it might be the Playschool. Can't ignore a ringing phone when you're a Daddy."

"Indeed. Nor when you're basically running the country. It must be stopped forthwith."

 "Got a solution, then, love?"

"I think... Yes. I think I can find a deterrent."

"Some sense at last, thank Christ. Maybe now we can get some work done without the Phantom Cum-Caller splattering the receiver every five minutes."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Watson."

****

"Hello, Mycroft Holmes speaking."

"Ooh, fuck, so hard, so close, gonna do it...mmm..."

"Well, if it isn't the Little Holmes."

"Wha- [...] Anthea?!"

"The very same. Simply lovely to hear from you."

"Fucksake! Mycroft, are you there?!"

"Silly Little Holmes. Hope I haven't put you off your stroke."

"Don't call me that! Witch!"

"Don't call here during office hours, then, you filthy boy."

"Put my brother on. Get this harpy off the line, Mycroft!"

"I won't get off the line, until you stop getting off over the line, Little Holmes."

"But - "

"No. You're disrupting national security. You may speak to your brother at an appropriate break time, and only when I've unblocked his private phone."

"Mycroft, take the phone back! Mycie?!"

"Yes, brother mine, I hear you. You're on speaker, but fear not, it is only myself and Agent A in the room. Still, she's heard quite enough from you already."

"I hate you both!"

"Yes, dear. Now, unhand yourself please - go and do some work. Gregory has a case for you. An eight at best, but it's all we've got."

"Fine. Ruin all my fun!"

"I shall, thank you."

"TTFN."

"Bugger off, Anthea, you fat cow!"

"How dare you speak to her like that. I shall remonstrate with you forcefully this evening."

"Bloody wank saboteurs!"

"Au revoir, Little Holmes."

"Puritans!"

"Yes, yes, darling. Don't call us. We'll call you."


	4. Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On spoiling Lock. And teasing him too.

"Myc, darl, you shouldn't be buying him more toys. How many more things does he need to stick up his bum when we're not here?"

"Too right, Greg. You realise you're an enabler, don't you, Holmes? I mean, no-one complains more loudly about his brattitude than you. But you're the one spoiling him rotten."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here! I am _not_ spoiled! I am adequately and appropriately rewarded, aren't I, Mycie?"

"Not in the least. But because you're rather pretty, it pleases me to give you pretty things when the mood strikes."

"And because you don't think with your brain when it comes to him."

"A shatteringly accurate observation, sadly, Inspector. The flesh is weak."

"'M'not  _pretty_. Devastatingly hunky, thank you." 

"Tch! You wish, pal. Baby-deer eyelashes on you?"

"John, shut your mouth!"

"My mouth? What about that little dolly mouth of yours?"

"Urgh!"

"Pretty pouty kissy lips..."

"Yuck! Greg, will you tell him?!"

"What? That you're Papa's little prettyboy?"

"Piss off the pair of you!"

"Mm. Pretty-girly hair though. All curly cute."

"You're disgusting, Watson. Disgusting!" 

"Now there's a blast from the past, Little Brother..."

"No. Don't. You. Say It."

"Hm? Say what, Sherl-?"

"Mycroft! Don't even  _think_ about saying it, or I will - "

"Curly girly Sherly..."

"Arrgh! Just...! Just explode into a million bits, you abject wanksock!" 

"Greg, help, she's going to scratch my eyes out!"

"Pretty kitty."

"OH! I despise you ALL! You're all dumped. Dumped, I say! Enjoy your lives as the world's most annoying, miserable threesome! None of you are getting near my devastatingly hunky body ever again, especially not you, Piecroft!"

"Don't you DARE start using that again! I  _will_ tell Mummy!"

"Thighcroft!"

"Girly Sherly, hair so curly, kisses boys and goes all twirly!"

"You promised never to say that again in 1985! Myscoffed!"

"That one's not even a proper rhyme!"

"So what, you mammoth prick?! You know you're not supposed to say...what you said! I'm the one telling Mummy!"

"Jesus bloody wept. If you don't give it a rest,  _I'll_ tell Mummy on the pair of you."

"You wouldn't!"

"No? She likes me. Took a bit of a shine to me at Christmas..."

"John Watson, are you suggesting that Mummy  _fancies_  you?!"

"She's got eyes, hasn't she? And she's a Holmes. Makes sense."

"Bleurgh! I'm going to puke!"

"I too feel distinctly unwell, brother mine."

"Any chance of you three belting up so I can hear the telly? This ain't my idea of a peaceful Sunday at home."

"No chance at all!"

"None, eh?" 

"Ow, Greg! Don't pull my ear off!"

"Calm it. Childhood nicknames and silly rhymes are banned, right? I can't cope. Got enough on me plate as it is."

"Yes, you're quite - ow - right, Gregory."

"What do you say to your little brother?"

"Oof. All right, all right. I apologise, Lock. I shan't use those words again. It was very immature."

"And you, Trouble."

"OK, OK! Sor-RY! I fully retract my earlier comments. I was just being a dick for the sake of it. Happy now, Lestrade?"

"Ish." 

"Pax et Bonum, frater meus?"

"Yes! Pax et Bonum, frater. Let go, Greg, you'll damage me!"

"Cos you're such a pretty delicate flower..."

"Oh, why does nobody pull Watson's ear off when he's being a dick to me?!"

"Rather nibble it than pull it, if I'm honest."

"Then what are you waiting for, mate?"

"Mm. Tasty thing. Very nice."

"Yeah. Wanna make it nicer while we watch the boys kiss and go all twirly?"

"Hrrmph! Don't think I should let any of you touch me."

"I give you thirty seconds before you're begging, brother mine."

"Could definitely last the full minute this time. Definitely."

"Even if I do this?"

"Ooh..."

"And even if John does that?"

"Mmm!"

"And if Gregory just pulls these down a little bit more..."

"Rotters! Horrible, horrible men. Just, oh, just..."

"Ooh, now there  _is_ a pretty sight, eh, Greg?"

"I'll say. Pretty big."

"Oh, pretty baby brother, shall we show off your present for these horrible, horrible men?"

"Mm-hm, oh, please..."

"Say it and I'll let you have it."

"Mycie!"

"Come on, now, love. Generous big brother bought you a new thing for your lovely bum. Say something nice for him, yeah?"

"I'm...a pretty boy and I want my toy."

"Aw, there he is."

"And here _this_ is..."

"See? Your wish is Mycroft's bloody command."

"Oh, yes. Spoiled rotten I am, John, didn't you know?"

"We all are, mate. We all are." 


	5. Sleeptalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a minor detail in Conference. Sherlock talks in his sleep to process information. And he talks through everyone else's sleep too. The boys try to shut him up, one by one. :) x

"Sherlock. Lock. Wake up. Oi. Bloody hell... Sherlock Holmes!"

"What?! What, John?!"

"Talking! Talking in your sleep again. Turn over."

"Wasn't!"

"Were. Been lying here listening to you rabbiting for an hour."

"Making it up."

"You started at 2.08am. It's gone 3am. Shut your gob or get out."

"What was I saying?"

"No idea, mate."

"Then you weren't listening, so it can't have kept you awake."

"Rumbly noise in the pillow was keeping me awake. I was tuning out the words, cos I have to listen to them during the day."

"If only you'd listen harder, Watson, we might get more done."

"Oh, bugger off."

"No. You bugger off. I'm working, even in my sleep."

"Not buggering off out of my own bed."

"But Greg's in mine!"

"Go and ruin his life instead."

"I will."

"Fine."

"John...?"

"Oh, what now?!"

 "John-John..."

 "No."

"Oh, go on."

"I'm not sucking you off at three in the morning."

"What better time? We're both awake now."

"I would rather suck a dead badger than you right now, mate."

"Is that one of your jokes, John?"

"No."

"Grumpy."

"Sleep deprivation does that to a bloke. Take the hint. Sod off!"

"OK, then, just a wank."

"No wank. No deal."

"Just a little rub of it. I'll do you too"

"Not in the mood."

"What's that, then, liar?"

"Ooh. Not fair. Devious little bastard..."

"Yeah. Mmm. Horny John plus Horny Sherlock equals Wank Time."

"Sleep time!"

"After. Can't sleep unless I've come. Coming stops me talking..."

"Obviously not, cos I remember fucking you at 11pm and you've barely shut up since!"

"Well, obviously I need another go. Ooh..."

"Shut up and I'll do it."

"Mm, yes, John, do it, shut me up... More!"

"Sssh."

"OK, OK. Sssh. Too fast - make it last a bit!"

"Nope, get it over with. Come on. Give me your hand as well. Go."

"Mmm. Like doing it at the same time. Are you going to come?"

"Not yet."

"Do you think the Crouch End Poisoner will strike again? I don't, I think she's..."

"Belt. Up. Or. I. Will. Stop."

"Ah! Oooh, John! Oh...gonna do it...!"

"Do it, then. [...] There. Better?"

"...Feel all alert now."

"Right, that's it. Piss off. You're barred for the rest of the night. What's left of it."

"Don't you want to come too, John?"

"Nope. I can wait. Not worth the hassle."

"I'll make it quick, I'll get lube. I'll - "

"OUT!" 

***

"Can't sleep, Greg."

"John kicking in his sleep again?"

"Kicked me out."

"Oh, poor lad. Get in here, then."

"Thanks. Nice and warm. Watson nicked all the covers and shouted at me."

"Aw. N'night, lovely."

"He said I was talking too much!"

"You are. Shush. Kip now."

"But Greg, I can't help it."

"Can help it. Mouth closed."

"Mm-hm... Greg? Greg!"

"What?!" 

"Hello."

"Don't shout in an old man's ear when he's dozing off, bloody hell!"

"Could you listen to what I say when I fall asleep, and tell me in the morning?"

"Oh, no, please, trying to get some shut-eye here."

"Think I have an answer lodged in my brain, but it won't come out properly yet."  

"Oh, blimey, why me?"

"That's what John says."

"Can't you try not to yap on? Holmes brains can do anything. Just stop yourself."

"Doesn't work like that. It's my autopilot."

"Yep. OK. I'll listen. Go sleep."

"I don't think you will listen."

"Sherlock, I'm warning you."

"You're bluffing to shut me up."

"I'll do more than that to shut you up in a minute."

"Ooh, sounds rude."

"Not rude. Painful. Gag you."

"Could gag me... With that."

"Oi, paws off 'til the morning. He's knackered."

"No, he isn't. He's all awake too."

"Hm. Ignore him and he'll go away."

"Don't want him to go away. Want to say hello..."

"But if you do that, I'll sleep even deeper and I won't listen out for all your important ramblings."

"Don't care, really. Only came in cos I'm bored."

"Thanks a bunch." 

"No, I mean, cos I want to be nice to you."

"Now, baby?"

"Now. Don't you want to be nice to me at the same time? You can just lie there, and I'll turn around and straddle your face."

"Go on, then. Keep you quiet, won't it?"

""Mmmgargh!"

"Ooh, sweetheart, the mouth on you... Fuck! Stay still so I can. Mmmf."

"....!"

"....!!"

"Phew. Good. Yummy midnight snack."

"S'gone three now."

"So, anyway, as I was saying..."

"Know what _I'm_ gonna say, darl?"

"Go and sleep with Mycie?"

"Yeah, love. Sorry. Thanks for that, though."

"OK. Night, Greg."

"Give us a kiss, then."

"Kay. Bye."

"NightnightLockie..."

 ****

"Mycie. Mycie! Mycroft!"

"I am asleep. Nagging will not wake me."

"You're not asleep."

"You are mistaken. My eyes are closed. QED."

"Can't see your eyes under your stupid sleep mask."

"The clue is in the name. I wear it when I am asleep." 

"Faking."

"Not."

"Talking."

"Subconsciously."

"Myciiiie!"

"Oh, stop it, you awful boy!"

"Good. Awake now, aren't you?"

"You infernal nuisance, what do you want? It's gone four!"

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Oh, dear Lord, what have I done to deserve it?"

"Mean."

"I am very mean. Being woken when I have specifically requested a quiet night at home makes me mean, and disinclined for conversation."

"Rot. You're having a conversation now. In polysyllables."

"I've gone from sweet dreams to a waking nightmare. It's intolerable."

"I'm not a nightmare!"

"You are a nocturnal curse! Do _not_ prod me there! Sleep deprivation is an acknowledged torture technique, you know."

"So is being a horrible brother!"

"Away with you."

"Never! You'll never get rid of me, and if you don't let me in, I'll fetch my violin!"

"Get in bed and be silent. Pretend to be dead. Again."

"Move over, you bed hog."

"This is my bed, I am entitled to hog it!"

"You hog everything!"

"I do not - no, I won't engage. Either get in and be quiet, or go and pester someone else. John, for example."

"I've already pestered... I mean, John's being horrible too. Greg said I had to come and sleep with you."

"My Gregory would not do that to me."

"He has! So there. Just cuddle me and shut up."

"Fine. Happy?"

"You're all....lumpy. Why aren't you comfy like normal?!"

"It's not me, it's you, baby brother. You're a highly strung and irritable insomniac."

"You're all...ugh, you're not relaxing me at all!"

"Silence!"

"I'm not the one shouting! Ow! What was that for?!"

"Out. Now."

"Oooh. But I've run out of boyfriends and brothers to sleep with."

"Then sleep alone. Goodnight... Why aren't you gone?"

"Do you want to be naughty with me under the covers?"

"Oh, God..."

"You do. We could go on a camping holiday in your pyjama trousers..."

"Don't look at that, close your eyes."

"I won't tell anyone if you want to do it to me, Mycie. Papa will never find out..."

"Stop trying to make it kinky. It's 4am. Far too early for that sort of thing."

"OK. Just normal then. Spoons, Mycie. Mycie, spoons. Oi! Roll over and spoon me!"

"Oh, fine. There. No, off, don't rub back on... Hharrrgh..."

"Mm. Feels nice."

"No wiggling!"

"I like wiggling."

"God help me."

"He can't and he wouldn't even if he could. Oh, yessss. Pull my jim-jams down."

"Don't call them that."

"Whatever, just get my bum out!"

"Oh, yes. There it is. Soft... Oh, Lockie..."

"Oh, push it in, pleeease..."

"Just here, baby boy, hm? Will you be quiet if I push it in? Will you?"

"Prob'ly."

"How many times have you come off tonight?"

"Only three."

"Ah. Fourth time's a charm on a Noisy Night, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mycie. Have you got the... Ooh, that's cold!"

"I'll warm it up for you. Now turn over, and bite down on the pillow for me, hm? Let's see if big brother can bugger you to sleep."

"Mmm."

"Oh, Lock... Dearest. Tell me how you want it."

"[...]"

"Lock. Sherlock?!"

"[...]"

"No, you're not... You're not really snoring. You...! Unbelievable. Little. Bloody. Nightmare!"


	6. A fraternal chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little pre-Quartet Mylock vignette while I muse over some origin backstories. Entirely just to tide you (well, me) over until they come to fruition.

“Mycie!”

“It's 3am.”

“Observant of you. Shut up and listen.”

“Why are you whispering? You're at home. I know you're at home.”

“Don't know who else is at home though, do you?”

“Aside from the good Doctor and his female progeny? Who?”

“Lestrade.”

“Lestrade?!”

“He's in John's bed!”

“What?!”

“John's not in it.”

“He isn't?”

“No, he's on the sofa.”

“Explain. And stop whispering, it's imbecilic to whisper in your own bedroom.”

“Fine. I was trying to be discreet, but I can hear Lestrade snoring next door, and I heard John having a sneaky wank, so he'll definitely be asleep by now.”

“Really, Sherlock! I don't need to know that.”

“Mm, you like knowing though, don't you?”

“Neither here nor there.”

“He tries to keep quiet but he makes a little...”

“A little yelping sound when he…reaches his crisis, yes, I know, you've told me many times. It sounds adorable. Now get on with it.”

“Ugh, just say ‘comes’. Makes a yelping sound when he _comes_. Anyway. The case ended tonight.”

“Ah, finally caught the Battersea Strangler, have we?”

“Yes, actually. She was the first victim's third wife's au pair. All very dull. Except she only had one arm. She was strangling ungrateful ex-employee lovers with her thighs.”

“I don't need to know! Why is Lestrade sleeping in John's bed?”

“He fell down three flights of stairs.”

“John?”

“Lestrade, moron. He was raiding a block of flats to pull the Strangler in. Got there ahead of back-up. She bolted and ran at him. They got her, but Lestrade got two broken ribs, a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder, a black eye, and a mild concussion.”

“Good lord, these men of action. So I take it he's been discharged from hospital but he doesn't have anyone to keep watch for the requisite 24 hours after the head injury?” 

“Yep. We have to stop him dying in the night. He might even be here longer. He's all bashed up!”

“Don't sound so gleeful, Lock. Is he all right?!”

“Oh, he's all right. He was very brave and stoic about it.”

“I'd expect nothing less.”

“John got him checked over and brought him back like a stray dog. All covered in bandages and up to his eyeballs in cocodamol.”

“At least there's a doctor in the house. Left to you, he'd probably end up with another few broken bones, and burns as well.”

“Probably.”

“Why are you telling me? At 3am.”

“They only got back an hour ago. Just...thought you'd like to know.”

“Oh, did you?”

“Yes. Lestrade. In our flat. Sleeping in the same bed as John sleeps in. Next to my bedroom.”

“So you said.”

“Jealous?”

“Of whom?”

“Good question.”

“Regardless. The answer is no. I am not jealous. Did you want me to be?”

“No. Just thought you might be, what with your big schoolboy crush and everything.”

“I do not have a big schoolboy crush on Gregory. On Lestrade. Lestrade. I do not have a schoolboy crush on Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

“You protest far too much, brother.”

“I absolutely do not!”

“I was there when you first clapped eyes on him. I know that look. Been seeing it directed at me all my life.”

“Well, he is easy on the eye. As are you, brother.”

“And you go all quiet and coy around him.”

“I’m simply a natural introvert, unlike some shameless little…”

“I was there when you had that spectacular wet dream about him!”

“That was... It was quite spectacular, wasn’t it?”

“It was lovely and warm.”

“Revolting beast.”

“Want to come round and meet him properly? He’s basically trapped in the flat. You could get to know him better. Chat.”

“I don’t chat. Wait a moment... The nearest hospital to Battersea is Chelsea and Westminster. Much easier to get back to Lambeth than Baker Street. Couldn't John have gone to stay at his place instead? More room to spread out in a semi-detached house than the pokey hovel you skulk about in.”

“You've been there, then?”

“One merely imagines.”

“Oh, I bet one ruddy does when one has such a chronic pash for a certain someone.”

 _“You_ have a chronic pash for him too! And for Watson, not that I blame you. You insisted on bringing him back to Baker Street, didn't you, Lock?”

“Well... I let John insist. Just wanted to make sure he was all right.”

“Of course you did. Didn't want to leave them alone either, in case of illicit hanky-panky. Is that a possibility, do we surmise?"

"They do go to the pub occasionally, which I believe is what men do when they're trying to bone each other."

"I'm not sure your thesis is entirely correct, Little Brother, but time will tell, I suppose. We shall keep an eye on it. Stop diverting from the fact you couldn't pass up the chance to observe the dishy D.I. at close quarters in his pyjamas.”

“Shut up, Mycroft. I don't think he even wears them.”

“There’s a thought.”

“Are you coming round tomorrow or what?”

“Darling, of course I am. I think I've probably heard about the Strangler incident and need to check up on my wayward little brother. I'll bring grapes for the patient, and give you a scolding on some spurious pretext, how about that? John can leap to your defence and hound me from the premises.”

“Sounds lovely. But don't let him chase you away too early. Stay for lunch. I’ll sulk about it. Now are you going to talk me off or what?”

“Oh, all right. Now that I'm awake.”

“Right. Ready. Go.”

“Such a little romantic. Are you under your covers?”

“No, I'm kneeling up on the bed. You're lying down, obviously. Boring.”

“I am too old to be anything other than recumbent when I masturbate, Sherlock.”

“Get on with it.”

“Stop nagging or I shall hang up.”

“Fine, fine. Please? Please, Mycie, _say_ things...”

“Better. Now... Are you still hard from thinking about John coming all over his hand on your sofa?”

“Yes. Oh...touching it.”

“Good. Are you hard thinking about Lestrade lying in John's sheets, all injured and heroic, and probably not wearing pyjamas?”

“Mm-hm.”

“What else are you hard from, Naughty Lockie?”

“You.”

“Yes?”

“Always. You’re... I can hear you doing it. The sound of it. Oh, fuck, Mycie, can hear you all slick and wet...”

“Hear that, can you? And I'm not even using lubricant.”

“Fuck... Practically taste you from here. Tell me what it looks like.”

“Mm. You know what it looks like. Dark pink and glistening...swollen in my fist. You know how it curves upwards just right to nudge your special place...”

“Made for me.”

“You for me. Fit around me so perfectly.”

“Yes, yes, beautiful…”

“Are you fucking your hand, darling? Are you all hot and sensitive, and are you fucking your hand like you fuck my hand, when I take you up that tight little bottom of yours?”

“Nnng! Mycie, oh, yes... Oh, rubbing it right _there_...”

“Are you as wet as I am, teasing your aching head, thinking about sucking off Lestrade while he lies there all helpless? And John pushing inside your clenching arsehole while you do it?”

“Mycroft!”

“Push one of your lovely fingers inside for me, hm? Just one. Just circle that precious little ring like I would.”

“Can't...with the phone... Hang on.”

“Oh, Lockie, are you bending over now? Both hands busy? Is your face pressed into the bed?”

“Mm-mmf, got you on speaker.”

“Naughty boy. I shall keep my salacious utterances low.”

“Don't stop, please, please…”

“Imagine Gregory Lestrade fucking John Watson in front of us, Lock. Would we let them watch while we did it too, baby boy? Would we shock them?”

“Oh, God, yes... Mycie, Mycie... Want to show them how we fuck.”

“I know you think about it. Little exhibitionist.”

“So do you. Gets me off. You all horny for Lestrade, and you getting off on the idea of me and John. And imagining John and you together, oh... And just you, Mycie, doing it with me.”

“I want to be there when it happens. You and your sweet John. When he touches you there for the first ever time...”

“Definitely when?”

“Oh, yes. When. What would it be like to watch you and Gregory at it, I wonder? God. To see him spread you open, my little Lock. How his big, thick cock would stretch you and disappear inside you inch by inch while you moaned into the pillow…”

“Bet it’s huge. Oh, don’t let him hurt me, Mycie…”

“Mm, I’d prepare you so nicely for him. Make you open on my fingers. Or John would part you and lick you loose - oh, yes, that’s it, that’s what it would be…”

“Tell me!”

“You’d present yourself up to him, and he’d kiss your delicious little hole as it twitched against his lips and opened up for his hot, wet tongue. Oh, how you’d howl, baby brother, like you do for me when I love you with my mouth.”

“Filthy Mycie... You and me and them. And they’d do all those nasty things you need…”

“Say them for me.”

“Thrash you raw, hold you down and fuck you hard, and make me hear you beg…”

“Oh, God…”

“So close…”

“Oh, you naughty, naughty...”

“OohcomingMycie… Mmmf! Oh, fuck _me_!”

“Yesss... Oh, my Lock, I’m…! All over myself…!”

“Mm. Nice. Wish I could clean it all up for you, brother.”

“Oh, good Lord. Lick yourself from your fingers, you dirty boy.”

“Yummy.”

“Ooh. Gosh. I think I needed that.”

“Good one. That.”

"Lovely fantasies to dream of now, eh?"

"Mm. Think we could ever make them real, brother?"

"Think we could do anything we put our minds to, brother. Time and informed consent permitting. But such things must be delicately handled, and we shan't jeopardise the status quo unnecessarily. Things must be allowed to unfold. And there are no guarantees."

"Mm. But ideas, and plans, and evidence, and stuff..."

“Hush. Sleepy now?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. I shall see you tomorrow. We’ll talk less obscenely.”

“N’night. Tomorrow.”

“Goodnight sweet princeling.”

“Don’t be soppy, Mycroft.”

“No, dear.”


	7. No surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another pre-Quartet dialogue I've had in mind for a while. Just airing it. Takes place some time after Ch. 4 of this, 'A fraternal chat'. 
> 
> In my little brain, the Holmes brothers have long discussed potentially picking partners for themselves to share, but never met anyone they trusted or liked until they met Greg and John. They understand there are things they want and need which they can't supply for each other, and are looking to build a family for themselves. They engineer and manipulate and analyse in true Holmes fashion, and plan to have their way when things fall into place. This is the scene I imagine where Sherlock goes for it with John, who is not as shocked as he thinks he ought to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex, I'm afraid. Just talking about it.
> 
> Might write up the full tale one day, or put the individual sections into order. But it's a bit of a task, and I have a fic backlog!

"What...? What was that?"

"What, John?"

"You just... You just kissed my shoulder!"

"Did I? Mm. That was nice of me."

"Why?"

"Just thought of it."

"OK. Are you high?"

"Only on life, John."

"Seriously, are you on something?"

"A mission."

"Oh, stop being cryptic, for God's sake."

"I don't think you know what cryptic means, John."

"Stop it. Why did you kiss my shoulder?! Is it an experiment?"

"Yes."

"Right. For what? A case?"

"Sort of." 

"Who's the client?"

"Mycroft."

"What?!"

"Hm. He wanted to know what you'd do."

"Well, I hope he's happy with my ever-so revealing response of 'what was that?' What does he plan on doing with the information?"

"Dunno. See you later."

"Where are you going?"

"Got to report it back. "What was that?" Hmm. Not the most interesting reaction you could have picked. Bit silly, really, cos I think you probably knew what it was, didn't you?"

"Sherlock!"

***

"Oi, get off!"

"What?"

"Please tell me this is just your brother's idea of a practical joke? That's the seventh time you've...kissed a bit of me, in the last week."

"Counting?"

"Logging it as evidence."

"Of what?"

"That you've finally cracked."

"Have I, John?"

"Probably. Not sure how I'd tell, to be honest. But the unsolicited pecking amounts to something like it."

"Unsolicited?"

"Well, I haven't asked for it!"

"No?"

"Monday, the shoulder. Tuesday, the elbow. Wednesday, my wrist while I was on the computer. Thursday, my knee when I was watching Panorama. Friday, my neck after breakfast and my forehead when I said goodnight."

"See? I am getting closer. My aim is improving."

"You can't really be..."

"No?"

"No..."

"Not at all, John?"

"N-n... Stop it. Don't."

"When you said 'get off', did you mean that?"

"Eh?"

"Catch up, Watson, for God's sake. Did you mean 'get off' when I kissed your shoulder? Was it unpleasant for you? I won't do it again if it was."

"It was... I wasn't expecting it. It wasn't unpleasant."

"Would you like to do it to me? Just on the shoulder."

"Erm... Would you like me to?"

"Yes."

"Seriously, mate, don't mess me about, it's not fair."

"Not messing about. Not anymore. It's time, John."

"Time?"

"Mm. For a bit of risk-taking. Don't you think? Aren't you bored with how decently we get along?"

"Not bored with being your mate, no."

"No. But perhaps bored of being nothing but. I think I am."

"Bored of living with me? Single Dad, dull job, not as fun to work with anymore?"

"Not listening, John."

"Am I not?"

"Well, pretending not to."

"Sherlock, you're going to have to be very, very clear."

"Yes. Clear. Are kisses clear, John? Ones like this..."

"[...] Oh, Jesus..."

"Clear enough for you, John?"

"Yeah. I'd say that was pretty clear. Make it clearer."

[...]

"Mm. That was exactly as nice as I predicted."

"Yeah? You...wanted this? Since when?"

"The start. St. Bart's. I knew." 

"Nah, no way."

"Yep. Eyes. Brain. Other bits. I knew."

"OK. Right... So... Now what?"

"What do you think? What do people who kiss usually do next?"

"Are you sure? I mean, are you actually sure, and this isn't just a test? Because if it is, I swear to you, Sherlock Holmes, I won't survive it. If you're pissing about to amuse yourself, I'll pack me and Rosie up, and we will leave. I can't... If it's a joke, or a put-on, or a case, or a fucking experiment, you will not see me again!"

"John. John. Please. Ssh. It's all right. It's me. Not me five years ago. Me now. Don't you know already?"

"I don't know what I know. I've...thought about it..."

"Well, I do know. You know too. It's us. Nothing easier."

"Then tell me something I can believe, for God's sake! You have to say actual words, Holmes, not just kisses and innuendos and clever-clever questions! You have to state, clearly and for the record, and mean it, and..."

"I want you. I... I love you, John. That's all. I just love you."

"Fucking hell. Oh, fucking hell..."

"What? Not right? Did I not say it right? Shit. What do people say? Isn't that it?"

"Shut up, you silly dickhead."

"Aren't you supposed to say it back?"

"For God's sake, ten minutes ago I was doing the washing up, and now we're doing Romeo and...Romeo. Yes, you idiot, I love you! I bloody love you. I've bloody loved you...the whole... I mean, all the time. This can't be it, I can't actually be saying this to you..."

"But you are. Too late to take it back."

"I love you. Mary knew. Everyone bloody knows, prob'ly. Except you, I thought."

"Wrong."

"Then why have you waited 'til now, you daft bastard?!"

"Because it's now. Just is. Timing. Events. Collision of both. Not right before. Too complicated, after everything. You were angry with me."

"Yeah."

"But you loved me anyway."

"Yeah."

"And you're not angry anymore."

"No."

"And you still love me."

"That's true. OK."

"So we've established the facts of the case, John. Me, loving you. You, loving me, and all that. All extremely satisfactory and as predicted."

"Predictable, am I?"

"Yes, very. Don't look at me like that, I like it. Your predictability is one of the best things about you."

"Such a romantic."

"But there is something..."

"Oh, no, what? You love me but...? You're celibate and we're never going to fuck? You love me but you're going into Witness Protection? Have a hideous terminal disease? Need me to, I don't know, climb Big Ben naked to prove it, what?!"

"That last one is an interesting idea... But no. There is something I'd like to do, before we proceed with the whole loving each other thing."

"What, for Christ's sake?!"

"I'd like to introduce you to my brother."

"Come again? I already know your brother."

"No, you don't."

"Oh God, there's not another one, is there?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Seriously, just spell it out, mate."

"I need you to meet Mycroft."

"I've met Mycroft many, many times. It's not an experience I'm keen to repeat indefinitely."

"You've met Mycroft, yes. But you haven't met Mycie."

"You're giving me a headache. Mycie is Mycroft."

"Yes and no. Don't look at me like a codfish, John. I demand that you let me introduce you to my brother! Say yes and shut up."

"Yes, yes! Bloody hell. What's your brother got to do with anything?!"

"John. Listen with brain please, not just ears."

"I am listening!"

"I need you to like Mycie. Or at least get on with him. Or at least accept him."

"I... Why?"

"Because he's mine. My own. And I need you to understand."

"He's... But you don't even like him! Do you?"

"Oh, John. Please think. Please. Not what you've seen. What you've observed. About Sherlock and Mycroft."

"Mycroft. He barges in here and you argue, and he interferes with our cases. He gets all overbearing and authoritarian, and it drives you mad, but for some reason you always let him in, though I don't know why you don't just refuse his calls or... Oh. Oh!"

"Yes. And?"

"You never refuse his calls. You let him in. You...look at him sometimes...and I..."

"Observations, John."

"I come home sometimes, and I don't know why, but I could swear he's been here."

"Yes."

"I could swear, sometimes... That you and he speak some language I don't understand, right in front of me."

"Yes."

"And that you relax after you speak to him. When I'd expect you to be more tense. But you aren't, you seem like you have answers after you see him. You seem like you're revived. Even when he's here and you're arguing, the way you argue... Scripted. Like two different conversations going on at once. The one out loud, and the silent one. It's almost as though..."

"As though?"

"As though he isn't who I think he is."

"No, John. He isn't."

"It's a put-up job. You and him. Holmes versus Holmes. It's bollocks. It's a performance."

"Mm."

"It's... Fuck..."

"Say it, John. You aren't wrong. You rarely are, about me."

"It's... _flirting._  The way you speak to him. Look at him. It's the way you look at me."

"Yes. One does not erase the other, by the way, so don't bore me with insecurity. I am secure in the way I look at and speak to both of you."

"Jesus Christ. You're really telling me..."

"I really am."

"...that you, and your brother..."

"Yes."

"Are..."

"In love, John. We're in love."

"Fuck. Do you mean it like I think you mean it?"

"I mean it like you think I mean it. So does Mycie. We have always been 'we'. Together. We are inseparable. I cannot give myself to you, John, if you don't understand that I won't, can't, could never and will never stop being in love with my brother. I am a greedy boy. I need you both. I love you both."

"Do you and he..."

"Have sex, John? Yes, we have sex. Regular, intense, wonderful sex. We fuck, John. He fucks me happy. And sad, and scared, and infuriating, and angry, and excited, and hilarious. He fucks me better. He fucks me complete. John, I need you to hear me when I say that my brother is part of me. He is my other half, and if you love me, you already partly love him. You just haven't met him yet."

"I don't... If I say yes.... I mean, if I say no, do you walk away?"

"No. I still love you. I still want to live with you, and work with you, and support you."

"And if I can't handle it? If I go screaming out the door, or to the papers, to the law?"

"You won't. But if you did, it would be... Awful, wouldn't it? Just awful."

"I won't. Course I won't. I need to think."

"I don't think you do. But fine."

"How long have you and he...done that?"

"Since I can remember. Well, since the onset of puberty, anyway. His body is my body, and vice versa. It's a Holmes thing. It doesn't repulse you."

"Doesn't it?!"

"No. And it doesn't seem to make you jealous."

"No?!"

"You think it ought to. But it doesn't. Stop trying to let it repulse you, John. Just react how you want to."

"It's...quite a thought."

"Good. So you'll do it?"

"Do what?!"

"Meet him."

"Does he know, about me and you? Won't he have me killed?!"

"John! Of course he knows! Is there anything Mycroft doesn't know? That's what I'm trying to tell you, you idiot. He knows we're having this conversation. We've discussed it at length, many, many times. And very much more besides, but we won't go into that now... He very much approves of you. In fact, the sun shines out of your arse, as far as Mycroft is concerned. He rather fancies you himself..."

"Sherlock! He can't do! He looks at me like I'm a beetle or something."

"Oh, don't be obtuse. Any moron could see he fancies the pants off you! And look at you blushing now. Interesting."

"That isn't... That can't be true! If you'd said Lestrade, I could believe that."

"Well, durr. Even Mrs Hudson knows he fancies Lestrade. I keep telling him it's obvious but the poor imbecile thinks he's subtle."

"Ha, he's subtle enough for Greg to have missed it."

"Can't blame him for having the hots for Greg, can you?"

"Well, no..."

"Don't look so worried, John. I know there's a bit of history there, isn't there? You and 'Greg' as you so casually call him."

"Erm, yeah. That did kind of happen... But mostly we're just mates - "

"Oh, please don't do anything as silly as apologising for it, John. It isn't required or desired. We knew something like that was happening. We've rather enjoyed your attempts at concealing it. Neither of you are any good at it, by the way."

"Bloody hell. You've been monitoring us?"

"Just observing, John. I wanted to rig cameras up but my bloody brother came over all responsible and stopped me." 

"You're not pissed off, that me and Greg sometimes... Hang on, what am I saying? Why are we talking about this?!"

"Because I've engineered a very complicated conversation and you're brilliant enough to understand that it's best to just go with the flow. One of many reasons I love you, Watson. And why Mycie thinks you're the bee's knees. Though what's so good about bees' knees is beyond my comprehension."

"Mycroft Holmes thinks that? Seriously? The same Mycroft Holmes who glares at me like I've spilt a pint over his best shoes? He can't be that bloody good of an actor!"

"He is. But don't tell him that, he's already arrogant enough as it is. Unbearable sometimes."

"How have we gone from unrequited love to requited love, to incestuous love, to some kind of suggestion of a..."

"Relationship."

"Threesome."

"For now..."

"What?!"

"Nothing. Triad, John. Not threesome. A threesome is something stupid people try when they're desperate to convince themselves their boring coupledom isn't at breaking point. A triad is a consciously selected relationship, involving loving, equal participants, whose characteristics and feelings suit each other and enhance their lives in immeasurable ways."

"And that's what you're proposing, is it? Simple as that?"

"No need to be sarcastic, John. Mycroft is sarcastic too. I don't like it. I am not proposing anything. I am stating the facts of a case. I love you, you love me. So far, so good. I love Mycroft, Mycroft loves me, also extremely good. Both facts must be allowed to stand, regardless of any further involvement. Though I propose you and Mycroft meet, see that you are eminently suitable for at least a satisfying friendship, and that both states of affairs proceed along their natural course. And then we see what might be made to happen next. Plans... But no, let's not jump ahead. With me so far?"

"So you get to fuck us both?"

"Ideally, yes. Mycie always says I'm spoiled, so I suppose I'd better keep living up to it. I very much want us to fuck, John. I want adventurous, and happy, and silly, and disgusting. Everything." 

"But you won't fuck me, if I don't consent to you fucking him?"

"I don't want you to consent to anything you're not comfortable with. It's not an ultimatum. It is a choice, which of course I hope you'll make in my favour. If you can't consent to sex under these circumstances, I would... I would try to cope with that. Or we could have recreational sex, if you can separate the idea of me and Mycroft together... If you can accept my existing relationship, we can do anything you like. I'll never not be in love with my brother. But I won't stop being in love with you either. I will never not want you. Do you see?"

"I do see. God help me. Shouldn't seem so bloody reasonable, but as it's you... I want you. Want us to fuck, and everything you said. So all right. I'll take your brother into consideration. We'll meet and talk, and I guess... Take it from there."

"I knew you'd see sense, John. He is handsome, don't you think?"

"Yeah. I'm nervous of him, but I'm not blind."

"No, nor are you stupid."

"Cheers, mate."

"And in the meantime, sex or no sex. Between us?"

"Oh, sex, I think."

"See? You don't have a problem with it."

"Aren't you worried I'm just going along with it to get my end away, and I'll kick up a fuss later?"

"I don't worry about things like that. I already know the answer." 

"So sure of me, are you?"

"Yes, John. Of course I am. You love me. You told me. And you don't lie."

"No. Not to you. Not to myself, anymore, eh?"

"Mycie always said you'd get there eventually."

"Did he, now?"

"Yes. Mycie knows things."

"Mycie. Not sure I can get used to thinking of him as 'Mycie'. Will we get on, do you reckon?"

"Oh, yes, John. You and Mycie will get on. I can't wait for you to meet him. You are going to love my Mycie _so_ much."

**Author's Note:**

> Lovely to hear from you as always. x


End file.
